


Lose the Sky and Leave Our Feet

by runicmagitek



Category: Pyre (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Bonding, F/F, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Mid-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 09:33:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15021740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: Pamitha resigned herself to her fate before stumbling into the Nightwings. With their final Rite around the corner, self-doubt sinks in, but at least she won't be alone for the night. Or ever again.





	Lose the Sky and Leave Our Feet

**Author's Note:**

> for an anonymous asker ❤ with the prompt: _shag me - a dirty story about the specified characters_

One more Rite. One last chance to pass another member of the Nightwings through the Shimmer-Pool. And then it would be done. Or at least their beloved Reader admitted as much. Same with Tariq. He wasn’t one to lie.

But Pamitha? If it meant concealing her true thoughts and emotions hidden, then any means was necessary to ensure her safety and sanity. Still, even she faltered to maintain tranquility the night before the final Liberation.

That was why alcohol existed.

She excused herself after dinner and flew to the roof of the Blackwagon. In her clutches was the last bottle of moonshine she hid away for a special moment. She imagined said moment involved celebration than a means to forget, but Pamitha always flowed with the current than swam against it; what was the point in fighting fate when the stars already held the details?

It was never going to be her. Pamitha convinced herself as much, though to overhear the whispers of those remaining of the final choice in who would be Liberated tore through Pamitha. She laughed it off and feigned happiness. Whatever it took to keep the others from pestering her.

At least she would be stuck in the Downside with Tamitha, wherever she was. Maybe they could make amends at long last. Or maybe Tamitha would claw out her blood-sister’s eyes. Only the Scribes knew. Pamitha even questioned how much those dead saviors were privy to in regards to the Rites carried out in their favor.

With an immense sigh, she uncorked the moonshine and downed several gulps. The liquid burned down her throat and sent chills to the tips of her wings. She leaned back, eyes to the skies, and yearned to see something more than glistening lights.

“It was good while it last,” she mused out loud with a defeated chuckle. “One last hurrah and then I can drink myself to death.”

Another swig, another sigh. It would be lonely without the Nightwings around to give some semblance of friendship. _Hopefully the others are doing alright back in the Commonwealth,_ Pamitha thought. _Not that I would have been much help, but_ _… I’m cheering for them. I hope they know that. Even though I wasn’t the most honest of the bunch, I want nothing but the best for them._

She rolled her eyes. “I never had a chance, anyways.”

“A chance at what?”

The abrupt voice other than her own sobered Pamitha. Her heart steadied when her eyes fell upon the slinking form joining her on top the Blackwagon. Bertrude always had a knack for making Pamitha feel welcomed, no matter the circumstance.

“Nothing of importance,” she said with a wave of her feathered limb. “Simply rambling to myself.”

Bertrude raised an eyebrow. “Everything has its place in this world. Whether it’s due to the will of the Scribes or our sheer stubbornness, nothing can hold no importance.”

Pamitha laughed at that logic. “Maybe. I don’t know anymore. Suppose there’s only one way to find out, hmm?”

“By finding the bottom of that bottle?”

A smirk danced across Pamitha’s lips. “Care to help?”

The other members of the Nightwings cowered before Bertrude, either physically or mentally. Pamitha opted to admire the jaded crone who spouted truths no one else was brave enough to admit. Part of her wished to be as wise and witty in her old age. Time would tell. Or she would die before she ever found out. But at the moment, she gazed upon Bertrude with an admiration she didn’t offer out to others freely.

Bertrude mirrored Pamitha’s smirk, a rare sight Pamitha was convinced only she witnessed. Swiping the glass bottle, Bertrude held it up to the starlight and swished the contents around. Always analyzing everything in life, even the notions which were meant to be enjoyed. After several sniffs, Bertrude took a cautious sip.

“Needs more charred oak,” she commented.

“Got by with what I had.” Pamitha took the bottle in her talons. “If I had access to my old supply cabinet back in the Commonwealth….” She grinned before taking a drink. “Well, I don’t think either of us would be conscious.”

“We believe enough ingredients reside in the Downside to create substitutes. A matter of trial and error, but probable.”

“I guess with the rest of my life being spent down here, I might as well make the most of it.”

A bite lingered within Pamitha’s words before she lost herself in the moonshine, as did a hint of sadness. Such emotions were better locked up and kept away from others. Around Bertrude, though? That barrier ceased to exist.

She snatched the bottle from Pamitha, much to the harp’s surprise. With another sniff and swish, Bertrude downed another gulp. A serpentine tongue flicked over her lips.

“Also more sugar,” Bertrude added. “We know of suitable replacements for that. When in doubt, however—” She scooted closer and nudged Pamitha. “—we possess several strings to tug to acquire genuine ingredients.”

Pamitha blinked. “From the Commonwealth?”

“Where else?”

“Can’t complain there. Until then, I’ll get by with what I got. Might not knock us out, but it sure takes the edge off.”

Once more she grabbed the bottle from Bertrude for a drink. She caught a sly smirk upon her friend’s lips. Something Pamitha couldn’t place was also hiding behind those features. It tingled through her better than the booze was.

“Hast thou always been flexible and nimble?”

Most didn’t question Pamitha when she treated her talons as others did with their hands. Even if her feathers had proper thumbs, she didn’t dare ruin the plumage with stains and dirt. Thus she clutched the moonshine bottle in one talon, raised it to her lips, and drank with a sense of ease that came as natural as flying.

“For a harp?” Pamitha giggled. “Maybe not. I know plenty others who could fly circles around me, but in general?” She shrugged and purred back, “Maybe I have.”

“Thine physical prowess must make intimacy far more intriguing.”

Pamitha nearly spat out her moonshine. Upon swallowing the mouthful without choking, she arched her back and cackled into the night. All the while, Bertrude’s smirk yet to flinch into something else.

“Oh, so _that_ _’s_ what we’re to be discussing the night before our last Rite! How rich!” She rolled over to face Bertrude proper. “Am I putting lewd thoughts into your head, dear?”

“Thou hast and continue to do so.”

She chewed at her lower lip. Blood pulsed through her body, knotting between her thighs—a sensation she had almost forgotten until now.

“And I think I’d be lying,” Pamitha cooed back, “if I said that tongue of yours doesn’t give me ideas.”

A wicked grin graced Bertrude’s features, along with a tease of that tongue flicking out. “Hmmm? What does thou think of exactly?”

“Hard to say. A warm body, in general, is nice, though I’ve grown fond of your company as the numbers in our group shrinks.”

An agreeable sound rolled through Bertrude. “We never wished to return to the Commonwealth.”

Pamitha sighed. “I guess I didn’t want to, either.”

“Then we shall have each other.” Bertrude extended a hand to brush locks of hair out of Pamitha’s face. “Tonight, tomorrow, and the days to come.”

“To make alcohol and entertain one another in the lulls?”

“Hmmm… something to that effect.”

“Sounds like a promise I’d be willing make.”

“Than shall we seal it?”

Before Pamitha questioned the thought, Bertrude curled fingers beneath her chin, positioned her closer, and eased in to taste Pamitha’s lips. Moonshine stained Bertrude’s tongue, mixed with her own distinct taste. Pamitha longed to get drunk off of that alone.

Both broke off the slow, yet deep kiss in favor for air. Even then, Bertrude nestled into Pamitha’s feathery embrace, both lost in each other’s eyes.

“I’m eager to see what comes forth from this partnership,” Pamitha said.

“Is that so? The feeling is mutual.”

Whatever response Pamitha had lodged into her throat when Bertrude lapped along her neck. She lolled her head to the side, moaning as that skilled tongue teased sensitive patches of flesh.

“Seems you’re quite eager for something,” Pamitha purred.

“A taste of something other than moonshine,” Bertrude said.

Pamitha grinned. “Perhaps you’re curious to see how wide open my legs can get?”

Bertrude laughed into her neck. “Perhaps. We shall take our time with thee.”

“No rush?”

“Why should we? The two of us have all the time in the world now.”

Not wrong in the slightest. No need to be alone and wallowing in her misery when a kindred soul offered companionship. And Bertrude indeed took her time, lavishing Pamitha’s neck with attention, exploring the subtle curves of her breasts, and savoring every inch of her body. Once Bertrude settled between her legs, Pamitha further demonstrated her flexibility. In return, Bertrude indulged Pamitha with what her tongue could truly do.

Maybe spending the last of her days in the Downside would be more interesting than Pamitha initially thought.


End file.
